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Frozen Bodies
Chapter 1 "Kate Beckett," I say with a huge smile, shaking the hand of the person opposite of me. "I hope you don't mind my intruision, especially considering the museum doesn't open for another hour, but I just love to visit collections before the crowds arrive." "No problem, Miss Beckett," the curator of the museum, Ian McKinley, tells me. Mr. McKinley is fat, balding, and has yellowing teeth, and makes me cringe internally. "My boss always loves to have art critics come in and appraise the art. Now, was there any specific piece you'd like to appraise for Mr. Marks? I, personally, am a fan of Portrait of Madame X. Or, perhaps, you would like to view our Van Gogh area? There are a few pieces that, within today's market, are at a different price than previously thought." My eyes skim the entire front room of the museum. "There is one piece, though I hear it isn't open to the public yet. My boss is certainly very interested in it and would like for me to appraise it for you, as I'm sure it hasn't been already." A small look of horror crosses his face, unsure if he's allowed to show me. After awhile, he finally nods. "Right this way, then." As he turns to walk away, I can hear him talking to himself. "I really hope I don't get fired for this..." He leads me through the Metropolitan Art Museum to a display enclosed in a small fortress made entirely of sheets hanging from the ceiling and a rope-fence around it. "It's not very protected," I muse to myself, knowing that behind that sheet would be state-of-the-art protection. "No, no it's not. Actually, it's only at night that we truly protect it. You see, it's set up with a pressure alarm. If too much pressure, or not enough, is on the plate, it triggers an alarm. We also have a lazer grid that comes from the ceiling and surrounds the piece so that no one can get in. Of course, I turned it off when I arrived." "Sounds pretty advanced. So, besides the lazer grid and the pressure sensor, what makes you sure no one can get to the piece? I want to make sure it's protected, after all. It is an expensive piece from my understanding." "Yes, yes it is. Well, if someone can find a way to get past the lazer grid, and can somehow get it off the pressure sensor without setting off an alarm, they would have to get the piece out of the building, which is near impossible. Not only are their guards posted at every entrance and patroling the building at night, there is a GPS in the frame. For example, on this piece, it is in the bottom right corner frame if you look at it from the back. Once the piece leaves it's spot, the GPS is triggered and can be tracked no matter where it goes." Sudden confusion fills his face as he glances at me. "Why are you asking?" I shrug nonchalantly. "My boss is a very curious person. He wants to make sure that every art piece he has someone inspect is well protected and safe from making it's way to the black market. I suppose experience has made him cautious." McKinley nods, as if he understood me. "Yes, well... Ah, I should show you the piece. Here." He pushs back the curtain and reveals the small painting. "It's the original piece from Salvador Dali. The Persistence of Memory." The piece steals my breath as I stare at it in all of it's glory. "It's beautiful. Do you mind if I have a closer look?" "Be my guest. Don't smudge the art, though." I move closer to the piece and examine it. From my extensive research, this is definitely the original. "If this is the original, it's worth well over a million dollars. How did you get it?" "It was donated, actually," McKinley says. "Some rich person just decided to give it to us." "It's beautiful. By looking at each individual stroke, I can tell this is the original. This is fantastic." And it made it so much better to steal. "Indeed. So, over a million, you'd say? My boss will be happy to hear that." "Indeed." Suddenly, someone shouts from behind us, calling for us to freeze and put our hands in the air. Ian quickly drops, but I remain where I am, studying the painting. "Kianna Olliveri," says a voice from behind me, but I keep my focus on the painting. "You are under arrest-" "One second, Mikey darling. I'm admiring the art and it's really rude to interrupt. I don't care if you're part of the CIA or the FBI or Homeland Security or whatver organization you're working for today. I'm here to admire the art." I throw a smirk over my shoulder. "Oh, right. Sorry. I interrupted your speech... again. Oops. I think I'll just..." I grab the painting. A second later, a part of the ceiling falls down around me. Someone with a rope drops down and grabs me before we quickly fly back into the above floor, painting in hand. Once on the second floor, I slam the bottom right corner into the edge of a table, causing it to break off. "We'll get a new frame later," I say with a smile before tucking the painting under my arm. The person who saved me, named Robert Kelly, and I run towards the glass window and run through, causing it to shatter. We land on top of the FBI van. Kelly takes the painting from me and leaves, but I remain. I glance into the air as a helicopter lowers closer to the ground. Meanwhile, Michael Quincy comes running out, gun in hand. If only he wasn't so hot. He made running away so difficult, with his short, black hair and baby blue eyes. "Freeze." "You should know that I'm really bad at that game, MIkey-poo. And besides, my ride is here. Can't be late. I have tea with the Queen at 8." With that said, I jump up and wrap my hands around the railing of the helicopter. We quickly lift into the air. "Maybe next time!" "No, no, no! Kianna!" He raised his gun, as if to shoot, before cursing and grabbing his phone. The door to the helicopter slides open and someone helps me in. Once inside, I sit down and buckle up. The person who helped me in, Regina Elias, hands me a headset, which I put on. "Kelly has the painting. He should have it on the market as soon as possible. In the meantime... Where's the champagne?" Regina moves from her seat and grabs a bucket of chilled champagne, pouring herself and me and glass. "Cheers, to another successful heist." The two of us clink glasses together before taking a drink. "I can't wait to start our next project." "Today was dangerous enough. Take it easy. Your boyfriend could have killed you. How did he even find out about the heist being today?" "I don't know, and I don't care. And don't call him my boyfriend, Gee. I can't stand him." Taking another sip of my champagne, I glance outside the window. "Hang on, where is the pilot taking us?" She glances outside the window as well before cursing. "Get out of the plane, now." She pulls off her headset, so I do the same. We both make our way to the side of the helicopter and glance down below us. Luckily, we just so happen to be flying over a lake. "Now or never!" she shouts before jumping. I have to admit that Gee has balls. I jump out shortly after her, happy that we were low to the ground. My body crashes into the water. A split second later, a pair of hands grab me and drag me out of the water. I push my hair out of my face and look around as they forcefully drag me to the bank. "Kianna Olliveri, you are under arrest." Says the voice of Michael Quincy in my ear. I grimace as I hear the familiar sound of cuffs clipping onto my wrists. "I bet you've always wanted to do that, haven't you?" I ask, throwing a glare over my shoulder. "I've always fantasized this moment, but usually the cuffs were used in a more kinky way." He only smirked at me. "Oh really? Because this is exactly like my wildest fantasies." "Then I assume you've got a hard-on now?" I ask, a cocky smile on my face. "Or is it just my imagination?" "You're really cocky, did you know that?" "It's one of my more endearing qualities." With that, he gives me a small shove to tell me to get walking. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. So please, do start talking." "I can think of something better these lips can do, you know." "Like tell me where your friend is going with the Salvador Dali painting?" With that, I fall silent as he leads me over to a waiting cop car. If he wanted me talking, he was going to have to beg me for it. Of course, I already have a plan to get myself out of jail if it comes down to it. Chapter 2 I sit in an interrogation room, my hands handcuffed to the table. Still, I sit as relaxed as I can pull off, which is very relaxed. The door opens and in strolls Special Agent Michael Quincy. He casually sits opposite of me and makes a show of going through my folder. After a few minutes of silence, he finally speaks. "Over two hundred accounts of theft in over thirty different countries and all fifty states, and you're not even twenty-eight yet. It's a miracle, if you ask me. Then again, You've been at this for... twelve years, right?" He makes a low whistle in his throat before looking at me. "Where's the Salvador Dali painting going?" "No clue. You see, this is why I include over twenty people for ever heist I pull of. While I do give them a job to do, I don't know how they pull it off. It's the beauty of my job. Plausible deniability, you would call it." He seems to contemplate my answer, still looking through my file. "You were a smart kid back in the day. You graduated high school by the age of twelve and graduated college two years later. Why go into this line of work?" I smirk at him. "You know how it goes. Boredom. I need a challenge in life., and nothing really matches up." "How else was involved?" "Do you really think I'll give up every person I've ever worked with? Have you never heard of honor amongst thieves?" I laugh at him. Oh, how he must not know... "How did you know, though? About the heist, I mean. Who keyed you in?" "Regina Elias." He notices me as I tense, causing him to smirk. "She's been your partner for... six months now, right? Well, in that time, she's been working for us. She's actually an undercover agent. She keyed us into this heist, when it was happening... She fooled you. She's right now working with our team to track down Kelly and the Salvador before working on tracing all the other members of your teams in the past six months." "You son of a fucking-" "It's called a hustle, darling," he says with a smirk. "I demand to speak to your boss, now." We both fall silent as we glare at each other before finally, he stands up. "There's no way you're getting out of this. You're going to jail." He studies me for a second before smiling. "Orange suits you. So do the handcuffs." "Maybe we can experiment after I get out." With that, he leaves the room. A minute later, in walks Regina, and she comes to sit opposite of me. "You rang?" I glare at her. If we had been partners in the past, it clearly isn't evident. "I have a deal. I want out in exchange for helping you catch other convicts like me. After all... it takes a criminal to find a criminal, doesn't it, Gee?" "Absolutely not. You aren't going back on the streets." "Then I won't hand over anybody that I've worked with in the past. Six months, you've known me. I am a secretive person and very quiet. You had to join me to catch me, Gee. Just think what I can do working for the government." She studies me for the longest time before sighing. "We'll talk about this later." I slam my hands on the table, causing her to jump. "My offer is a one-time deal. I won't say yes if you bring it up again. My freedom and I help you catch bad guys that are worse than I am. People that are... untouchable. What do you say?" Once again, she studies me. What feels like an eternity of silence goes by before she finally nods. "Fine. You'll remain in custody until tomorrow, where you will mysteriously disappear. You are to get on a private jet and go to Maldives and wait until myself and the Director of the FBI make it to you. From there... we'll wait for one other person." "Who?" "Special Agent Quincy. If anyone can keep track of you, it's him." "Only if he promises to save his handcuff fantasty for the bedroom." Regina only shakes her head at me. In the six months she has known me, making comments about him like this is a normal occurence. "Where is Kelly taking the Salvador Dali painting?" "Puerto Rico." She looks at me, almost in surprise, but I simply shrug. "I said I would help, did I not? Now when should I expect my jail break?" Chapter 3 I lounge in the chaise located in the main room of the hut I am staying in on Maldives. "Life is great," I say to myself, taking a drink from the martini in my hand. "I never knew being apart of the good guys would be so... rewarding." "Well don't act so blessed," Regina, or, rather, Alliana Parks, says to me, tossing a file on the in-table. "Once Special Agent Quincy gets here, you're going to be working on this assignment." I glance at the manilla folder before slowly sitting up and setting my martini down in it's place. I flip through it. "Your target is Morgan Denali, ever heard of him?" "Ever heard of him?" I question, looking up at her with a cocky smile. "He's a hit-artist, known for leaving his victims in giant industrial freezers." I shake my head and laugh. "Simple target if I get the right people to help. My only problem is going to be working with Mikey-poo. Did you pass me message on to him about the handcuffs?" "No, no I didn't, Keeks." She comes to sit down on the arm of the couch. "As far as he knows, you escaped and are held up here in Maldives. I told him he was off the case so we'll see how long it takes for him to show up." I hand her back the file before grabbing my martini. "He's such a lost puppy sometimes. I wonder what his life was like realizing his quest to put me in handcuffs was ruined. Of course, we can still live out that fantasy..." Alliana raises an eyebrow at me. "How drunk are you?" "Not at all. I'm always like this. Little psycho, very brilliant... very hot." I take a sip of my drink and smirk at her. "I know my limit unlike a certain someone I know," I sing jokingly towards her. Suddenly, though, I lean towards her, a serious look in my eyes. "Why did it take you six months to find me? Why not arrest me on the spot?" "I needed to know how serious Quincy was about taking you down. I would tell him where to find you, saying I got it from an anonymous tip." "Noooo, I think someone loves me too much to put me in jail. Come on, come on." I laugh, almost to myself. "I rubbed off on ya, didn't I? You like me." "I tolerate you," she says. "Gee loves me! Gee loves me!" My excited taunts suddenly come to an end when the front door opens. In the doorway stands a clearly sweaty Michael Quincy. Despite the fact that he was sweaty, he still somehow makes my jaw drop. "Well hello, gorgeous. You want a martini and to join the conversation?" His pale blue eyes dart around the room, clearly confused. "Director Parks?" I hold up a finger to him and look at the closed bedroom door. "Hey Director Mariano, wanna join the conversation?" A second later, the door opens, and a clearly frazzled Ryan Mariano walks out, his button-up shirt un-tucked from his black slacks, and his short, graying-brown hair in an obvious mess. "Hi. Thanks for joining us." Taking a sip from my drink, I look back at Michael. "For heavens sake, lower your gun and join the grown-ups." He stares at me in pure shock before slowly lowering his weapon. "What's going on?" "Quincy, have a seat," Alliana says, motioning the the couch next to her. "This may come as a shock to you, but-" "I'm working for the FBI," I say in my over-the-top singing voice. "As of today, I will be working undercover in the FBI to catch bad guys. Isn't it great?" "What?" he practically shouts, not trying hard to contain his anger. "What the hell does that mean?" "It means," Director Mariano says, cutting in, "that she will be, with the money the FBI has collected from busting other con artists like herself, will work under the jurisdiction of the FBI to collect other con artists, like herself, in which are impossible for us to do so legally." His eyes snap to me, the most fowl look in his eyes. "She'll run and you know it. Why are you trusting her?" I give him a suggestive smile before casually taking a drink of my martini, which was gradually becoming more empty. "I get immunity after five years of this work. Of course, from there, I can either choose to live a normal life, or I can continue this undercover stuff." Michael only shakes his head. "She's going to bolt. It's in her nature." "Correction: it was in my nature." I shake my head at him, clearly amused. "Now I get to be chained to you to make sure I don't bolt. Which means that for every heist I pull of, you'll be there with me to... what was the word you used, Gee? Supervise? Lame." "You're kidding, right? She is an expert on evasion and-" "Humor me. Why would I run? Theoretically," I say, glancing between Mariano and Alliana, "I have billions in a Cayman Island account somewhere out there. What's another couple million? Besides, I've already helped your boss find that Salvador Dali painting before it hit the black market, and I gave up one of my own men to do it." "I've come to the conclusion that you like running away from me. It gives you a thrill, no?" I study his entire body. His shirt clings to his body, dampened by the sweat and showing off every muscle under his shirt. "I can achieve my thrills in other ways," I muse, biting my bottom lip with a suggestive smirk forming on my face. Alliana clears her throat, breaking me from my day fantasies. "I'm sure you'll want time to process this, Quincy. You have a week until we need your answer. This heist that we need pulled off needs done soon. Here." She hands him the file that she had, just earlier, handed to me. "If you choose to accept this assignment, you'll be working to take down Morgan Denali: hitman known for leaving his victims in industrial freezers to freeze to death." Deep down, I feel honored to know that the great Director Alliana Parks is now quoting me. Still, I keep myself quiet and go back to studying Michael. Though I swung both ways when it comes to sex, he could really make a girl question which way she swings more towards. He catches me staring, but I don't do anything about it. I only raise an eyebrow at him. Finally, he turns his attention to Alliana. "I see one problem with this entire ordeal, and it's her. But if I don't do it, someone has to. So fine." "Aw, I love you, too, Mikey-poo." "See? She's a danger to work with. She's going to end up seducing me to bed and running with the money. Ugh..." He pinches the bridge of his nose with one hand while the other presses into his temple. "Why are we choosing to trust her?" "Because she doesn't want to go back to jail," states Mariano. "She stays out of jail, we catch fugitives, and you still get to arrest her in five years." He studies me for the longest time with the dirtiest glare possible, to which I only respond with that suggestive lip bite. I watch as his face contorts for a second, as if struggling to contain emotions. For a split second, desire crosses his face before quickly fleeting. Maybe an average person would dismiss it, but not me. No. Bingo. "I want a raise," he finally says, his emotions in check. "The level of crazy you have me teamed up with requires a definite raise." "Deal," Alliana says, shaking his hand. "Do we have your cooperation?" Once again, his eyes are on me. I purposefully sit with my chest popped out, causing my breasts to practically pop out of the top of my sundress. That same look of desire comes to his face, this time lasting for a full two seconds before a pokerface falls in place. "Fine." A huge smile overcomes my face as I set my martini down on the in table before coming to sit on the arm of the couch beside him. "Excellent, because I already have a plan in the making. First, though... I hear Barcelona has an amazing verma al grifo. Up for a small vacation?" Michael glances over his shoulder at me, as if studying me. "What's in Barcelona?" "We need to establish our alibies for when we go after Denali. I have a friend who specializes in this stuff up in Barcelona, totally legal. I'm sure your bosses can then set up fake accounts of us in the FBI database for a short period of time, no? I'll get ahold of you, my amazing and beautiful Gee, when I have our identities figured out. After all, Denali has many contacts who will stop at nothing to make sure we are who we say we are." "And who are we going to be?" he asked, clearly impatient. "You are just going to have to wait until we get to Barcelona, won't you?" I wrap my arms around his neck and smile at him. "If you must know, Denali is known for targeting rich young couples. He spends up to two weeks studying them, and having one of his operatives get close to them before he snatches them up and locks them in a freezer unit. I haven't decided on names yet, but I'm sure you get the idea of who we'll be playing." "And for the rest of the team?" asks Alliana. "You mentioned you would need a team." "Of my own choosing. I can't stand your FBI people. They're annoying. These people are exempt and will not be arrested, under no circumstance." For a second, Mariano and Alliana speak quietly to each other before Mariano decides to speak. "Only if they don't know who you work for." "Deal." I turn my attention back to Michael, who is still staring at me in shock with how intimately I'm touching him. "Get used to it. For the next three weeks, you and I are going to be a couple, darling." "You're pushing your luck," he says, his stare turning into a glare. "I'm good at that." Chapter 4 We arrive at Barcelona at around 4 in the afternoon from a private jet. Cost number one on the list of many to come in the many days of our partnership. "You and I will be staying at my home in Barcelona for the time being. Within the next two days, we should have passports and our names will be in the system." As we get off of the jet, a small, black convertible rolls to a stop beside us. "Ah, our ride is here. Thank you so much, Bernard. I wasn't sure you'd be expecting me back so soon," I say to the elderly man as he steps out of the convertible. "Miss Olivia, I was surprised to get your call," he responds in his heavy british accent. Though we were in Barcelona, which is kind of in Spain, Bernard was my childhood butler, and I wasn't leaving him behind in America to take the fall for my crimes. "No problem. I hope you don't mind, but I have a bit of company. I hope the house isn't in too bad of a condition?" A small smile comes to his face as he leads me to the trunk of the car. "Nonsense, Miss Olivia. The staff have been on their best behavior under young Master Ricardo." My eyes go wide for a second. Michael didn't know about Ricardo. No one knew about Ricardo. As if reading my thoughts, Michael grabs my arm and pulls my attention towards him. "Who the hell is Ricardo?" My mind whirls for a second. How do I explain the spunky teenage kid who had, about two years ago, tried to pick-pocket me and was also my master of identities? "Ah, well, you see, he's a friend of mine, met him two years back. He was maybe... fifteen then? Well, he was kind of living on the streets, an orphan, and pick-pocketing for money. Well, he tried it on me, and it failed miserably on his part, because I am a con artist. Well, I took him under my arm and he's been manning the fort while I'm off around the world. He's my guru when it comes to creating new identities." "You took a child and made him a criminal?" "Hold on there," I say, pulling free from his hold on my arm. "I gave him a home, financial stability, and a chance to live his life. He's right now in college, working on his masters. He's a brilliant kid and I helped turn his life around. Just you wait until you meet him." I hand Bernard my suitcase, offering him the best smile I can. "We'll be needing a private audience with Ricky when we get back home." "But of course, Miss Olivia. Shall I send word to Master Ricardo ahead of time?" "Please." With that, Michael hands his suitcase and laptop bag to Bernard. "How's the guest bedroom? If it's in too bad of a condition, Ricky might be getting a roommate." Bernard laughs at that as he lightly closes the trunk of the convertible. "Nonsense, Miss. The guest room is cleaned regularly by the maids." I smile at him before turning my attention to Michael. "It's a crying shame, Mikey-poo. I guess you'll be sleeping in the guest room." I open the side back door for Michael so he can climb in before following behind him. Grabbing a pair of shades from my purse, I place them on. "That is, of course, unless you want to spend the night in another room." A pained look crosses his face as he observes me. "I'd rather sleep with a ravenous lion. It would be a less painful experience." "Don't worry about that. You'll be sleeping in the same bed as me soon enough, I assure you. More specifically, three days from now. But, of course, first we need a team, and we need to talk to Ricardo." The driver-side door opens and Bernard climbs in. "Is everything ready to go?" "Of course. I must recommend that you buckle up. The road to the Olivia family home is very bumpy with no speed limit, and we are within time restraints, as Miss Olivia has pointed out." We both buckle up, as Bernard had suggested. With that, we take off, heading towards my estate. After maybe thirty minutes of silence, with only the radio to fill it, Michael turns to me. "So we're heading to...?" "My house, of course.I own it, just like every other property I own. Though I do stay in hotels for the most part, and only visit my other properties every once in awhile to make sure they're being taken care of. For example, I own a piece of property in Malibu, but I'm rarely there as is. The place we're heading is my primary home, and I spend maybe two weeks out of the entire year here. Being a con artist is very demanding." "How many properties do you own?" "Oh no. I know exactly what you're doing. You want to figure out where my properties are just in case I decide to run, which I won't." I shake my head at him before crossing my arms over my chest. "We're staying in hotels for the most part. My house in Barcelona is just temporary base for the time being because we need to establish our identities." He groans and leans as far back in the chair as possible. "Fine. But what are our identities?" I roll my eyes at how impatient he's being. Sure, he's hot as hell, and yes, I would gladly sleep with him, but he is really fucking annoying with how impatient he is. "I don't like repeating myself so you're going to wait until I can relay this information to both you and Ricky at the same time." "You're the worst," he says, glancing over at me. "Positively. But the question is what you're going to do about?" An almost devious smile takes over his features as he leans closer, his voice barely over a whisper. "Do you remember that fantasy about the handcuffs I was telling you about?" My heart practically stops in my chest as he watches me with intense eyes. I slowly nod, my eyes never leaving his own. "Well, I was thinking..." My breath hitches in my throat as he leans until only a few centimeters separate our lips. "That I would cuff you and deliver you back to jail where you belong," he practically shouts, causing me to flinch away. I rub at my ears,cringing to myself. "Asshole." Throwing a glance his way, I see a victorious smirk settled on his face. He settles back in his seat before turning his attention back to me. "People like you deserve to be kept in jail. Alliana just has a soft spot for you. Six months really affected her." "By Alliana, does he mean Miss Elias?" Bernard inquires from the front seat. From my calculations, we would be arriving within the next couple minutes. "Unfortunately. It is really a shame, but I will get to work with her in this line of work as well, I just have to deal with Mikey-poo." "Stop calling me that. It's embarrassing." I give him the biggest pout ever possible. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Is my cute, cuddle-umpkins bothered?" Once again, I roll my eyes at him. "Grow up, will you? You're stuck with me for five years and are going to have to endure twelve years worth of behind your back nicknames." He scoffs, as if I just told him the funniest joke ever. It only makes me pissier with the way he's acting. Screw sleeping with him. He needs a serious attitude adjustment first. "Not by my choice. And I have a few choice nicknames for you, too." His voice suddenly drops an octave as he stares at me. "Do you want to hear them?" I stare at him for the longest time, trying not to have a repeat of earlier. I open my mouth to speak, when the car suddenly jolts to a stop. "We are home, Miss Olivia." Jumping out of the car, I lean against the driver-side door. "Take care of the bags. I need to meet with Ricky now about this identity stuff." I point at Michael, who is still climbing out of the convertible. "You, ass inside." With that, the two of us hurry inside. Ricky, a dark-skinned boy at the age of 17 with black hair, hurries to us. "Tia Kiki!" he shouts, throwing his arms around me. "Woah there. Come on." I pat his back before pushing him away. "You up for a new mission, kid?" I ask, leading him through the huge, mansion-like house and to my study, which doubled as his work-room. "Because this is gonna be quite the mission." "Of course," he replies in his heavy spanish-accent. We all crowd into the office, Michael being the last to enter. He closes the door before leaning against it. "Who is he?" "This is Special Agent Michael Quincy, the one I've told you about," I reply, booting up Ricky's laptop. "I'm working with him for the next few years, so I'll need your help whenever I get a mission for identities. Which is, actually, why I'm here today." I move away from the laptop and ease him into the chair before turning to Michael. "Our identities are Natalia Velasco and her newly-wed husband Felippe Velasco. Natalie is a rich heiress who decided to marry Felippe after a small fling about a year ago in Madrid while visiting family. Felippe followed her back to her home and the two eloped shortly after, despite her parents disdain. Still, seeing as she is their only child, they have turned a blind to her marriage." Michael only shakes his head, his arms crossed over his chest. "What about Felippe? What's his story?" "He is the son of a big-name druglord in Madrid. However, he decided that, instead of drugs, he would get involved in the restaurant business." He raises an eyebrow at me. "What? It's a simple enough story and is, frankly, very plausible. As long as you can act, which I know you can, then I don't see the problem." "My problem is your confidence in a cold-blooded murderer such as Morgan Denali is finding interest in us." At his question, a huge smile comes to my face. "I have an answer to that. You see, Denali owns a hotel in Nice, France. Only the insanely rich stay there, because it's expensive as hell. He also has a hotel on the Las Vegas strip, New York City, and in Cardiff, England. Since there's absolutely no solid proof that he actually murdered people, they can't arrest him and, thus, he keeps his hotels. Every room has at least three cameras, and he finds his next victims by whether or not they stay in two or more of his hotels. If they can afford to stay in his hotels, they're clearly weallthy. "From there, he likes to kidnap one of the couple, usually the one that isn't rolling in money. So, in this case, it will be you. I have small, microscopic cameras and microphones that are near impossible to trace that you can wear so you won't be killed. Usually they ransome the stolen lover for a boat load of money, tell them to arrive at the drop spot, which is always an industrial site with a freezer, and they shove both of them into the freezer before running off with the money." "And how do you plan to ensure our safety without getting one, or both of us in trouble with these videos?" "Do you really think I'm so stupid? I have a team of mercenaries who will be following me when I go to exchange money for your dumb ass. They'll bombard the exchange, causing Denali to want to take a run for it, where he will run into your crew of FBI agents, where they'll arrest him. No freezer, we keep the money, his hotels are closed, and a murderer is put behind bars. It's a win-win situation." "As long as we don't die." I roll my eyes at him. "Loosen up, will ya?" I turn my attention back to Ricky as he types furiously on his laptop. "How does it go?" Looking up from the laptop, he offers me an award-winning smile. "Simple. Do you need identities for your mercenaries, too?" "Nope, just Mike and I. We'll leave you alone, because there are things that we need to discuss about the mission." With that, I place a hand on Michael's shoulder and lead him out of the study and into the hallway, leading him to where he would be staying. "You do know that, because of the cameras in the room, you'll have to do things, right?" "What kind of things?" he asks after giving me a calculated stare. A playful smirk crosses my face. Oh, the things he would have to do... "The not so friendly kind. Denali likes to make sure his victims are truly in love with each other so they will pay for their return before he kills them." As soon as the words leave my mouth, a look of pure disguist fills his face. "I'm not-" "You'll have to." Remembering the incident in the car, my smirk falls. "Believe me, after spending time time with you in the car, the idea isn't nearly as appealing as I first thought." "I have to keep the convicts at bay, even if they are hot." My eyes snap up to him, but he ignores me and makes his way through the hallway. "Are you coming or what?" I hurry to catch up, silently cursing myself for letting him to get under my skin once again. "You know, you're a fucking prick. You're going to have to work on that before this mission starts in three days, otherwise we'll kill each other." A cocky smile comes to his face. "Promises, promises." TBC... Category:Stories by Rainfacestar Category:Stories Category:Urban Fiction Category:Unfinished